EUNOIA ━ diego hargreeves

16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

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WHEN FREYA was nine, she sprained her ankle by falling off her bike. This was nothing out of ordinary for a child, every kid got hurt, what was strange about it was how she didn't cry for a doctor, or for her uncle to run and grab something. In fact, she had fought off the tears, and iced the injury with the ice from palm of her own hand.

It felt like she was reliving that now, just twenty years later, and with her wrists instead. She had never fallen on concrete from the sky before, the entire situation was very strange. Her ears were ringing, and she was pretty sure one of her ribs were cracked from the impact of the fall. Wincing, Freya pushed herself up and looked around.

She quickly discovered that she was alone. Immediately, her stomach clenched. Had the others just left her there? Or was she the first to arrive? She didn't have any sort of idea how time traveling worked, but surely they should've been there with her too, right?

"Diego?" She called, straightening. "Klaus?"

No response.

A bright light flashed from behind her, she turned her head, but saw nothing. For a moment, she thought it had been the others arriving. There was still no one in the alleyway with her.

She stepped out onto the street, lips parting when she took notice of the old fashioned cars parked on the road. Men wore fancy trench coats and hats, women strutted the streets in formal dresses, pushing baby strollers. Freya didn't fail to notice the stares that people sent her way, and she subconsciously glanced down, realizing that she did not look like she belonged there. But where exactly was she? Where was there?

It felt like she had just stumbled onto a movie set.

She stumbled around in shock, leaning up against the brick building before she fell over completely. Her eyes landed on the trash can a few feet over, and she quickly jogged over to it, pulling out the newspaper that laid on top. She scanned the page, her gaze landing on the headline, the date placed directly next to it. Freya felt her knees give out, and she braced herself.

September 08, 1963.

"Holy shit," she murmured. "We've gone back in time. Five, you son of a bitch."

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The sixties were shit. It didn't take long for Freya to figure this out. Once she realized the others would not be joining her, she had no choice but to make a living for herself. For the first few nights, she bunked in alleyways. Luckily, Dallas stayed warm at night, so she didn't have to worry about that.

After about a week, she stumbled across a diner downtown from where the alleyway was. A now hiring sign was strung across the door, and Freya caught sight of her reflection in the windows.

God, she looked a wreck. Her natural roots were growing back in, and her clothes were incredibly wrinkled. She'd never get hired like that. Sighing, she went to turn on her heel to leave, but nearly ran into one of the waitresses, who was assumingely on her break.

She was a short, blonde older woman who looked to be in her mid-forties. Her name tag read Elizabeth.

The woman took one swift glance at her, before her expression turned sympathetic. "You poor thing. How long have you been homeless?"

Well, that was pretty straightforward. Strangely enough, Freya found it kind of refreshing. "A few weeks," she said. "My boyfriend threw me out after.. I caught him with another woman."